Dark times
by MrsRegulusBlack123
Summary: Each year 23 innocent children were were killed. And there was nothing the Guardians could do about it.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise Of The Guardians or the Hunger Games.**

_Destroyed homes. Broken families. Orphans. Parents that outlived their children. Pain. Famine. Misery._

Wars always left behind a bitter aftertaste, the Guardians had been around for long enough to know that.

They had lived through many, many wars in their long lives, and though the one in Panem had been far from the first (and it certainly would not be the last), it without doubt was the most destructive one yet.

For seven years, seven long years, fear and nightmares had reigned over the whole country, unstoppable and undisturbed as friends and family alike killed each other, men, women and children were slain and murdered, cities were bombed and houses were burnt down till nothing but ashes remained. No place was safe, and no one was to be trusted.

Pitch's power, which had been subdued ever since that battle in Burgess so long long ago, prospered like it never had before. He did no longer need to hide under the beds of children or inside the dark depths of their closets, he was no longer merely the dark shadow you sometimes happened to see out of the corner of your eye- only for it to be gone when you turned to really look at it. No. He was there. And he was _real. _And people feared him once more, just like the old times and even better. All of them had nightmares, all of them woke up screaming at night, all of them were afraid of the scary yellow eyes that haunted them at nighttime.

At times like these, fear was practically all there was.

At times like these, belief was a frail and uncertain thing- fragile and insignificant, easily brushed aside.

When you were always fearing for your life, fearing for your children and the hunger pains just never seemed to stop, childish fairy tales were easily forgotten, buried away into the depths of your mind.

The Easter Bunny, the Sandman and even Santa Clause lost their meaning. But if they were gone, and fear was everything there was, who remained to protect the children?

Oh but they _did _try, for what it was worth. The Guardians tried everything they could possibly think of, but it was never enough to stop the rapidly disappearing lights on the big world globe in North's workshop. It was not enough to change the fact that less and less children believed in them every day that passed and it was not enough to stop the death of thousand, _millions_ of kids all over the country- young and old.

It had all reached a point where everything seemed hopeless- Tooth's feathers had lost their beautiful color, turning into a dull brown- not unlike that of wilted flowers- she could not fly, she could in fact barely move. And the others were no different- it was the Easter incident in Burgess all over again- just a million times worse. Because now _really _no one believed in them. It was like they had just dug themselves a pit and fallen in it, forever unable to get out of it again... but that's the thing about pits, see? When you reach rock bottom, you can only continue in one direction- and that's back up again.

Gradually at first, but all the time faster and faster later they got out on top again. It all started with the end of the war- the news that _the Capitol had won._

And soon hope was restored- and with it all the others followed. Pitch was beaten once again and forced back into his lair, for another good few centuries, hopefully. And for a short while- a few blessed months- it had seemed like everything was going to be fine. Towns were being rebuilt, agreements to stop the fighting made. Kids were happy, and in turn, that made the guardians happy. It all seemed like it was going to be fine for a few months' time.

_But that was all before the Hunger Games._

* * *

_Each year, a male and a female tribute between the ages of 12 and 18 were chosen from each of the twelve districts. They were to compete to a bloody competition to the death until only one remained._

That right there was the bare proof of what kind of monsters humans could be.

Each year, 23 innocent children were slain.

Each year, only one came out alive.

Each year, this happened over and over and over again.

And there was nothing the Guardians could do about it.

* * *

"Jack! Jack! It's Jack Frost!" The children cheered in their funny Capitol accents, wide and happy smiles on all of their faces as they eagerly jumped up and down, hands outstretched towards their favorite winter spirit as the lanky white-haired teenager set his bare feet down on the snowy ground.

A lot had changed since the time when the boy had had no believers at all, back when he was living on his own without ever being seen or heard by anyone. He was now a spirit just as well known as the rest of the Guardians- stories of him and his snowy days being passed on through the generations.

The children adored him.

"Look, look Jack!" A little boy exclaimed, proudly holding up something for the other to see. He was shaking it just a bit too much for the bringer of winter to actually make out what it was though. "I lost a teeth yesterday! Will the pretty fairy come get it?"

Jack laughed, the kids' happy smiles being reflected on his own youthful features.

"First of all, it's a _tooth, _Keith- and sure, of course she will! I bet Tooth will be ecstatic to find out about this- in fact, I bet she already knows."

"Really?!"

"Of course!"

"Who cares about his teeth?" A little girl with pink pigtails interrupted the two, the little ball of fluff on top of her hat bobbing up and down as she grinned in delight, "Jack, Jack! Make it snow so we don't have any school tomorrow! Please? Please please _pleeeeeaaaase, _Jack!"

"Yes, Jack!" A child whose hair tips were a shocking shade of neon green grinned. "There haven't been any heavy snowfalls this year- and to top it off it's almost time for the Games again!"

"Shhh! Georgie! You know Jack doesn't like it when-"

"The Hunger Games?" The teenager interrupted the little girl, and his tone of voice sounded almost spooked- as if fearing the answer he knew he would get. "It's that time of the year again?"

Little Rosie dressed in pink nodded.

"The tributes will be chosen tomorrow..."

He felt as if a bucket of icy cold water had been dropped over his head- violently bringing him back to reality. Being a winter spirit a bucket of water would not have actually bothered him, but this feeling made him sick to his gut.

"You just had to bring that up, didn't you?" The little girl in pink whispered, and the boy called Georgie shrugged.

"'m sorry."

"It's alright. No worries," He smiled, though it was noticeably less bright than a few moments ago. "Now... who's up for a round of snowball fighting?"

* * *

Pitch was always at his strongest the days leading up to and during the Hunger Games.

Fear was always a dominant emotion those days. For the people of the Districts at least, it meant two of their kids were most likely going to die. Parents feared for their kids. The kids themselves were terrified of being reaped. That fear was to Pitch like Ambrosia was to the Olympic gods.

It was almost overwhelming, enough to drown in, that sheer panic that gripped their hearts when their names were called out.

The fact that he was the king of nightmares, did not have to mean he approved of or enjoyed what went on during those days though. The Hunger Games were a brutal massacre- 24 children placed in an arena to kill each other.

He had not asked for that. Nightmares were his element- and that- that went way beyond the stuff of nightmares. It was sick, and it was twisted, but it was what the Capitol enjoyed.

Beggars couldn't be choosers though. And if that's what he got, Pitch would accept the power boost it gave him... even at the expense of the Districts' children.

Every year 23 children died, and the only thing any of them could do was stand by and watch.

As the girl from District 12 made her way up to the stage, her sister being pulled back into the crowd, back to safety, they could only hope that this year would bring some change.


End file.
